Mute
by J.E.McCormickGal
Summary: When Damien meets a mute boy called Pip, he swears to himself he's going to make the boy speak - and find out why he's mute in the first place. DISCONTINUED, SEE LAST CHAPTER
1. The Mute Kid

**Mute: 1**

**The Mute Kid**

_A/N: HAW HAW HAW! Tis here people. The first chapter._

_Hope you like it. READ FORTH!_

_Warnings: I'm sure there's swearing._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters._

=X=

Damien looked at the school, scowling. He didn't like Earth, he didn't like mortals, he didn't like the cold, he didn't like school and he HATED South Park. The people here were crazy, stupid or annoying. Most were just assholes, especially the kids.

He went into the old building, grimacing as he took in the dirty halls, disgustingly coloured walls, dingy lockers and over-all horrible appearance. Teenagers were either lent up against lockers talking to friends, trying to suck their girlfriend/boyfriend's tongue right out of their mouth or walking around in small groups.

One of the worst things about being new, Damien decided, was not knowing where to go or anyone to ask for directions without seeming inferior or stupid and sticking out as a quite obviously new student.

After complaining internally about his problem, Damien searched out someone who would give him directions without ever thinking of being an asshole to him. He'd been instructed not to kill anyone, and asking a total douche for directions and getting insulted could easily end in that situation. He picked a small, lone boy (or, it looked like it was probably a boy; it was rather feminine) with long straight blonde hair, a flat cap and some smart clothes.

"Hey, do you know the way to... Mr. Mattson's English class?" he asked. The boy jumped and looked up at him, then nodded. He started to walk off, and gestured for Damien to follow him. Although he wondered why on Earth the boy hadn't just told him the way, he followed anyway. The hallways were clearing as everyone went to their own classes, and Damien almost lost the small blonde in the thick sea of students jostling each other, but the boy waited for him to catch up before continuing.

The blonde turned into a classroom that read 'English Room 22: Mr Mattson' and Damien followed him in. The boy smiled, nodded, and walked off to sit at his desk. Damien walked over to the man at the front, presumably Mr Mattson.

"I'm your new student." He announced, and the teacher nodded.

"Okay class." He said. "Today we have the new student in, everyone welcome Damien Thorn."

There was a murmur around the classroom that sounded kind of like 'Hrrrnnnggh' and Damien rolled his eyes.

"Right then, take your seat over there, next to... Pip. Raise your hand Pip." Mr Mattson continued, and the small blonde who had guided him there raised his hand. Damien walked over and joined the boy at the double-desk. Pip smiled at him again, though Damien realised now the smile was just as nervous and weary as it was fleeting. He turned to the front, pen ready to write, hazel eyes bright but showing a degree of fear. His body was tensed and lent subtly away from Damien, and he kept his head low.

The English lesson wasn't exceptionally interesting; the teacher kept on going off on tangents, the kids all talked and it didn't seem that they were really doing anything important anyway. Damien was on the verge of banging his head against the table. After most of the lesson had gone by, and no more information was being provided for him to write down, Damien turned to Pip.

"So, you actually manage to learn something in this class?" he asked.

Pip nodded, but continued to read over and over his notes.

"Huh. The teacher seems like a total douche."

Pip shrugged, and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, which he then began to fold into itself; first of all making it into a square then folding all the corners into the middle, then in half, and continued to fold it as small as he could.

Damien raised an eyebrow. The kid hadn't said a word, never replied to him in anything but gestures.

"Are you foreign?"

Pip nodded, unfolding the piece of paper and folding it again in a different way.

"So do you speak English?"

Pip nodded again, finally tearing his attention away from the paper and looking up at Damien.

"So why don't you?"

Pip didn't respond at all, simply stared up at him for a second before looking back down at his hands.

"Are you like, French or summin, and not fluent?"

Pip shot him a death glare. Damien raised his eyebrows at how seriously offended the boy seemed.

"Okay, I'm guessing you aren't French." Pip nodded to confirm. "So where are you from?"

Pip rooted around in his bag, and pulled out his planner. He flipped to the back, where there was a small world map. He pointed to England.

"You're English?" Pip nodded again. "So you obviously _speak_ English. So why don't you?"

Pip looked around the classroom at the rest of his classmates, but didn't respond otherwise. The bell went for end of lesson, and Pip nodded at him before packing up and getting up to leave.

"Wait, Pip." Damien called.

Pip stopped dead, and turned to Damien, his face seeming surprised.

"Have any idea where Mrs. Handle's Geography is?"

Damien looked over the classroom to where the English blonde was sat, the seats on either side of him empty, as he noted down everything the teacher said in his perfect italic script. He looked up every few minutes, read over the board, looked at the teacher, glanced at the world map pinned on the wall, and turned back to writing in his book.

Damien frowned as he thought about the boy. The boy never said a word to add to class discussion, never raised his hand to ask or answer questions, even when his name was called in register he just raised his hand as conformation. It was like he couldn't speak. No-one spoke to him for the whole lesson, which meant that if he had of spoken he would seem crazy, but even though Damien had asked him questions that didn't have a straightforward yes or no, he still didn't reply in anything other than a gesture.

Right there and then, Damien decided he was going to make the mute boy speak. Somehow, he was going to.

Throughout the other lessons, Damien met Kenny McCormick, a boy he'd glimpsed occasionally in Hell but never talked to. The poor blonde smiled, told him they'd met once before, and invited him to sit with his group of friends at lunch.

"Hey guys." Kenny called as they approached a table that had a lot of other kids packed on it.

"Hey Kenny." One noirette said in a monotone, flipping both boys off as they sat down.

"Is that the new kid?" a boy with a green ushanka and a few bright red curls escaping from it asked.

"Yeah. Everyone, this is Damien, I've met him before in Hell."

No-one seemed to question this, and Kenny set to introducing everyone.

"That's Craig," Kenny pointed at the boy who'd flipped them off, and Craig repeated the gesture. "Don't worry, he does that. Anyway, that's Tweek, and Stan, and Kyle, and Token and Clyde and then Christophe." Kenny pointed to a shaking blonde boy, another noirette in a blue-and-red hat, the redhead, a black boy, a brunette eating what seemed to be a taco, and another, tanned brunette boy who was smoking. A few raised their hands in greeting, Tweek yelled, and Christophe ignored everyone completely.

"Hey." Damien said. He sat with the group, mostly listening to the conversation but not joining it, until he noticed Pip sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria.

"Hey Kenny," he said, nudging the blonde. "What's up with that Pip kid?"

"Oh him." Kenny laughed. "Frenchie's a loser."

"French? He told me he was English."

"He is, but we love to annoy him by calling him French. Also, I doubt he told you anything. He's mute."

"Why?"

"I dunno, but I'm glad. He stopped talking around 5th Grade, and it's a good thing, cause his voice was soo annoying and his accent was stupid." Clyde said, rolling his eyes and smirking.

Damien hummed thoughtfully, and looked back over to the blonde. There was a muscley-looking boy grabbing his hair and pulling, and saying something to him. Pip was wincing, but said nothing, instead pulling out a few dollars and handing them over. The bully pulled his hair again, and Pip dug around his pocket, but came up with nothing. The boy hit him, and walked off with his money. Pip rubbed his face, replaced his cap, and straightened his jacket, before turning to his lunch like nothing had happened. The sad look on his face and the tears in his eyes said differently.

Damien frowned, wondering why he hadn't tried to do anything, but turned back to the conversation on his table, choosing to ignore what he'd seen.

"How was school sweetheart?"

"Dad, don't fucking call me sweetheart." Damien growled, rolling his eyes. "And it was fine, I guess."

"I said you'd like school." Satan smiled triumphantly.

"I don't like it. I just suppose it's tolerable in the least."

"Did you make some friends?"

"Daad..." Damien whined. He hated his father being such a pussy.

"Well no-one came running at you with a cross did they?"

"No." Damien said, wondering why they would.

"Then they don't hate you."

"Okay, A, it's only been one day. I'm sure they'll all hate me soon enough, and B, I don't think I'm physically able to make friends." Damien rolled his eyes again and tried to get back to eating his dinner.

"Well, there are people who talk to you, and people you sit with, yes?" Satan pressed.

"_Yes_ Dad."

"Then we'll count those as friends." Satan smiled.

"Dad, can I please just eat my dinner?"

"Sure hun."

"And don't call me hun either. You gave me my name, use it."

Next day Damien walked with Pip to their art class. Damien didn't really like art; he doodled occasionally, but wasn't really that good at drawing actual people or things. When asked if he liked art, Pip smiled and nodded. The boy was bouncing along merrily, clutching his art book to his chest.

They were pretty much there, when Damien turned and noticed Pip being dragged off by a boy much like the one who'd hit him at lunchtime the previous day. Pip didn't protest verbally, but he did try to pull away once. He was gripped harder, and Pip looked sadly after Damien. When he saw he was turned, the blonde smiled and waved sadly at him, before he was dragged around a corner. Damien debated following the boys, but decided he didn't want to get lost and have to re-find the classroom. Besides, Pip didn't seem to have a problem going with the boy.

About 10 minutes into art class Pip stumbled in, sporting a red mark on his face, a split lip, clutching his sides and limping. No-one seemed to notice. Pip winced as he sat down, wiped some blood from his lip, and opened his art book to a sketch. It looked like it was going to become a sunrise over the mountains.

"That's good." Damien said, impressed. Pip smiled, and winced when it hurt his lip, and nodded his thanks. Damien frowned.

"Who did that to you?" he asked.

Pip shrugged, and looked away from Damien, his cheeks starting to flush red.

"Was it that guy who dragged you off earlier?"

Pip ignored him completely. Damien frowned, and punched him in the arm to get his attention. Although he hadn't hit him that hard, Pip jumped and rubbed his arm. He looked at Damien, though his eyes seemed to apologise any more than accuse. He dipped his head a bit lower, as if to make himself smaller than Damien, and shifted slightly. He almost looked like he was about to say something, but he simply mouthed the word 'sorry' very faintly.

"Don't apologise, answer." Damien told him. Pip shook his head. Damien hit him again. Pip's mouth opened in a silent cry, and he bowed his head again, like he was cowering and asking for forgiveness.

"Pip..." Damien frowned, confused by the blonde's behaviour. Usually if you hit someone, they'd get mad, say something, and hit you back. That wasn't the case here; Pip only seemed to become more and more submissive.

Pip looked up at him fearfully, as if he fully expected the demon to kill him. Damien sighed.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. If I could feel guilt you'd be heaping shitloads onto me." He muttered. Pip blinked and tilted his head in confusion, but shuffled away slightly and went back to his sketching.

Damien sat watching Pip draw for the rest of the hour; his art teacher said they'd been working on something for a few lessons and would be finishing today, so he needn't bother starting. So Damien doodled random flames and demon creatures (seeing as that was pretty much all he could draw) on a piece of paper while secretly keeping a very close eye on Pip.

As he drew, the little blonde slowly relaxed, until he was happily absorbed in his task. His eyes focused only on the paper in front of him, his lips moved occasionally as if he was talking, or more like singing it seemed, to himself in his own head. His pencil flickered over the paper; occasionally he smudged something here, re-shaded there, erased a small mistake and corrected it. By the end of the hour he had a near-perfect, pencil grey-scale sunrise.

"Wow. That is really good." Damien said. Pip smiled again and nodded thanks, but seemed weary now Damien was talking to him again. Damien could physically _see_ him tense up. The blonde's hazel eyes flickered, taking in Damien's expression, over to the door and tracing a path away. Then he looked around the classroom, scanned over Damien again, and seemed to inwardly sigh in resignation.

"I'm not gonna hurt you Pip." Damien felt this needed to be said aloud so it was understood.

Pip looked slightly doubtful, and rubbed his arm, but nodded. He looked downward, his eyes searching the floor away from Damien, before he made eye contact and smiled tentatively. The bell went for next lesson, and Pip stood up, gave Damien a small wave, and walked off, looking nervously around him the whole time.

Damien shrugged and went to his next lesson.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yes Damien?"

"If you want to get someone to talk to you, how do you do it?"

"What do you mean?" Satan asked.

"Well like, if they're mute, but they can apparently speak, they just don't." Damien explained.

"Find out why they're keeping quiet."

"If they still don't tell you anything? Just, how do you get them to say something."

"You either hurt them..."

"Did that."

"So you be nice to them. Make a friend. When they trust you, they'll talk. It's probably insecurity, that's why they're mute. Does that answer your question dear?"

"Don't call me dear. And yes, it answered my question."

There was a pause.

"Dad, how are you nice to someone?"

Damien was pissed. Kenny was being a douche, and most of his friends were assholes. Of course, he'd expected it, and decided he should just not really hang around with them any more than necessary. He didn't care about popularity here anymore. He was here because he was being made to by his father. If they thought he was an asshole, big deal, he thought they were assholes too.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Pip smiling down at him. He waved his hand.

'_Hi!_' was the message he conveyed.

"Hey Pip." Damien said, raising his hand in a similar greeting. Pip sat down with his lunch-tray, and looked at Damien questioningly, gesturing at the table.

'_Why are you here?_' he seemed to ask.

"I didn't feel like sitting with those guys today. You always look kinda lonely, so I figured I'd sit with you."

Pip smiled gently, and this one wasn't polite or weary, it was genuine and thankful. He looked off into space, still smiling, before he turned to the apple he'd bought and started eating it. Damien chewed thoughtfully on his ham sandwich.

"You know, our conversations are kinda weird. I feel like I'm talking to myself." He said aloud, a joking smile on his face. "I'm going crazy."

Pip's smile widened, and his shoulders bounced, like a laugh without sound.

"Was that you laughing?"

Pip nodded, still 'laughing'.

"You odd little person." Damien muttered. "I don't think I could live if I never said anything. And you've survived, what?"

Pip thought for a minute and held up six fingers.

"Six years? That's ages." Damien raised his eyebrows. "Still. Six is my number."

For a while they both went back to eating. Damien then thought of something to ask that would definitely require Pip to use his vocals.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to someone here?"

Pip nodded.

"What was it?" Damien grinned slyly. Pip got out a piece of paper and his pen.

'_Right-o_' he wrote, pushing the paper over to Damien.

"Dammit." He muttered in defeat. He looked up to see Pip smiling knowingly at him, as if he knew he'd beaten Damien's plan. "That is such an English thing to say."

Pip shrugged and did his little silent-giggle.

"Do you talk to your parents, like at home?"

Pip stiffened and looked away instantly. Damien got the feeling he'd hit a touchy subject.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Pip patted his hand and smiled. He shook his head gently.

'_It doesn't matter._'

Pip's fingers were cold when they touched Damien's hand, and sent a small shock up his arm. He stared at their hands for a second, before Pip snatched his back like it was on fire and blushed. Damien didn't know if everyone here was cold, because he'd never actually had anyone ever touch him, either purposefully or accidentally. Pip looked around nervously and hurriedly took a bite out of his apple, trying to look like nothing had happened. Damien grabbed his hand again and pulled it over to look at it.

"You're really cold." He murmured, rubbing the fingertips gently. The skin was smooth but he could feel the pattern of the fingerprints. "Is everyone this cold?"

Pip shrugged and looked away, trying to hide his pink cheeks. Damien kept a hold of the Brit's hand for another minute, before he let it go. Pip slowly pulled his hand away, then looked it over and rubbed it with his other hand. Then he looked nervously around the cafeteria again.

"What are you looking for? No-one's coming to get you or anything."

Pip gave Damien a flash of a look that begged to differ. His eyes rested on someone behind Damien and for a moment he looked slightly worried, but the person apparently passed and Pip relaxed. His hazel eyes darted again, then he settled back to eating his lunch. Once he'd finished the apple, he made a gesture to the exit and stood up.

'_I've got to go_'

"Wait." Damien said, standing up. "Can I come with you?"

Pip looked totally stunned for a second, before he nodded. He looked at Damien, and shrugged.

'_Why?'_

"Cause." Damien shrugged back, and followed Pip. The blonde led him to the school library, where he turned and gave Damien an apologetic smile. Damien just followed him inside.

Pip briefly searched the shelves, and came back with a rather large book. He set it down on a table in a secluded alcove between the bookshelves, and looked around in his bag for a minute until he produced his class book.

'_Philip Pirrup 11.4  
>Religious Studies<br>Miss Day'_

"Whoa whoa, Religious Studies?" Damien asked, looking mortified. Pip nodded with a concerned frown. "When do we have that?"

Pip pointed at his timetable in his planner. Next lesson.

"Shit!" Damien muttered. Pip looked at him with his head on its side.

'_What's wrong?_'

"Eh... I'm gonna skip next class."

Pip nodded, then turned to open the book and write for whatever assignment he had. Damien sat and stared across at him. Damien decided that Pip focusing on a task and actually relaxing was the best thing for him. He was kind of like that other blonde, the twitchy one with Kenny's gang whose name he didn't really remember; he always looked paranoid, constantly checking over his shoulder, always tense and looking like he wanted to just get as far away as possible. Only Pip did it quietly, much, much more quietly than Twitch-boy, so no-one noticed.

Damien watched Pip do his assignment, thinking over in his head his various methods of gaining some sort of sound out of the little British boy. When the bell for end of lunch rang, he waited until Pip had packed up before he stood. Pip walked to his lesson, and Damien flanked him for most of the walk. Pip reached the classroom door, gestured to show this was where he was going, and gave Damien a small wave and a smile. Damien raised his hand in farewell and continued until he was outside of the school and walked behind it.

=X=

An hour passed and Damien walked back into school to meet Pip. It was fifth period, which meant that form-room was next for half an hour until school ended. He waited for the blonde outside the classroom, and when he didn't appear, dared to poke his head into the classroom.

Pip sat in a chair that was presumably his, rubbing his ankle and moving it, as if testing it.

"You okay?" Damien asked. Pip jumped, but once he noticed who it was he nodded and smiled. He stood up, using the table as support for a moment before walking towards Damien, a subtle limp showing his ankle wasn't completely fine.

"What did you do to your ankle?" Damien asked. Pip winced and shrugged, though Damien knew this was his way of shrugging off the question. He'd known Pip for a while now, and could easily tell what it meant.

'_I don't want to talk about it. Leave it._'

Damien knew there was something going on with Pip that he wasn't saying anything about. He was an outcast from the rest of the student body, he got 'mysterious' injuries, and he looked around a lot, as if expecting someone to pop out from no-where and hit him.

_Because that _was_ what he was expecting_. Damien thought, frowning.

But again, he chose to ignore it, and dropped the subject.

"Come on, we don't want Mr Mattson going bat-shit crazy on us for being late." He said, and he walked slowly beside Pip to their form-room.

=X=

_A/N: Pfft. This chapter is quite old, but I read over it recently and it wasn't horrendous or anything. Next chapter will hopefully be better. And from Pip's POV, I'm planning. So we all get to learn... yeah._

_You'll have to wait ;)_

_This story will probably be much shorter than ISAIH, though I can't guarantee it being any less angst-y _

_I hope you enjoy this, I'm sorry if it takes a while to update (I'm still not 100% sure on the full plot... but hey, I wasn't during ISAIH either, but that worked out okay!)_

_Thank you to EVERYONE who voted. Once this is finished there will obviously be another, and don't worry, my story ideas will keep piling up so you have new choices..._

_Well, goodbye, and hope you like it so far. Umm... reviews GREATLY appreciated, I will skip for joy at the first reviewer. I'm hoping to get minimum 4/5 reviews for this chapter soo... yeah._

_Au revoir._


	2. Penny For Your Thoughts

**Mute: 2**

**Penny For Your Thoughts**

_A/N: Lol, lame-ass title. It's a saying (I guess in America or wherever 'penny' would be 'nickel' or whatever the fuck you use xD), if someone's thinking deeply and you ask 'a penny for your thoughts?' I have no idea what it means, symbolises or anything, but due to the fact that this chapter contains the thoughts of Pip and Damien through their POVs I decided it was somewhat creative. W/e._

_I thought I'd spent ages typing this but I think in reality it's only been about two weeks, which is odd, because I've either worked it out wrong or two weeks took an oddly long time to go past. It's possible. But enjoy it, I think it's okay. I hope it's not too short or anything. Also hoping no-one's OOC, tell me if you think they are _

_Warnings: Swearing._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Damien or Pip. The nurse near the end isn't Nurse Golem, just some randomer. South Park and its characters belong to Trey and Matt._

=X=

**~::PIP::~**

I waved goodbye to Damien at the school gates and we parted ways, him in one direction, and me in the other. After a few minutes of walking alone I checked around me.

No-one.

No-one ever followed me home, of which I was glad, but you never knew when one of them might decide that it was a good idea. Luckily I never took the bus with the other students, so nobody even knew the area of South Park I lived in.

It was a long walk and, as I always did, I was thinking and talking to myself, within my own head. Although my mind used to be quite a peaceful place, in the past few days it had been getting more and more crazed with thoughts.

_Damien._

He was at the centre of most of my thoughts. Always, always now, everything led to Damien. Anything and everything. Always. My mind was clouded with recollections of the day, conversations we could have had, words I could have spoken, things I could have asked him. Could. I could have.

I didn't.

My voice, and I guess more specifically my accent, was what started this hell. Had I not had such a British accent, or such a high voice, if I had not had _my_ voice, maybe I would have been left alone. Maybe. I wonder sometimes, though I know that no matter what, they'd always have found something else to torment me about. They do it enough now for me to know that.

As I approach my house, loud shouting is audible through the thin walls. I guess Mother and Father are fighting. Again. I can't remember a time when I haven't come back home to the sounds of their shouting. They scream and shout and punch, every day, every night, always _fighting._ Where do I come into all this?

If I'm not what they're arguing over I'm what they're shouting at. Scolding me is the only time they're united on anything.

"Is it any wonder he's become such a fucked-up kid with YOU around?" Mother screeches.

Their favourite topic. Which one of them messed me up the most.

I wonder if I can get up to my room without being screamed at.

Unlikely. But worth a shot. If I can, I'll be left alone until tea-time.

I take my bag off my shoulder in preparation for quickly dropping it by the door and making a dash. I slip in the front door, place the bag in its designated area to the side of the hallway, and sprint up the stairs, trying to make my footfalls as soft as possible. It works, and I get the whole way to my room without being noticed.

I can still hear them arguing through the floorboards; they're loud, and our house is in a pretty bad condition. No-one knows it, but my family is in a situation horribly close to that of the McCormick's; my parents are dirt poor and often drunk. Father can't keep a job and Mother doesn't even try. They don't care anyway. They get enough money for their booze and their food, and I am pretty much left to find my own. This isn't a family. This is a hole for the filth of the community.

That being me, and my parents. I am the bottom of the pile. I have no-one who cares about me. But I've learnt to live with it. The shouting, the insults, the beatings, the pain. The silence I'm forced to keep. I can live with it. I have to live with it.

Otherwise I won't be able to live at all.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

I'm sat on my bed, laptop open and blaring music. I'm supposed to be doing some sort of homework, but I really don't care. Instead I'm staring blankly at the screen, thinking. Now there are the things I usually think of; torturing souls, how best to avoid my dad today, the next horror movie I want to see, you know, that basic sort of thing. And then there's what I am thinking about now.

Pip.

And why? Yeah, if you know the answer to that, please tell me, cause I'm confused too.

For some reason I just can't get that mute little British boy out of my head. I have so many questions that I want to know the answers to, but can't ask.

_Why are you mute? What keeps happening to you? Why do you avoid the kids at school like they have the plague? Why do they hate you? What's wrong at home? Why do you seem so surprised that I want to hang out with you?_

You get the gist.

He's such a weird kid. Obviously he doesn't speak, but there are other things about him. There's something in his eyes, some emotion that I can't decipher because _god-dammit why do I even care?_

It's simple curiosity is all. If there's something someone doesn't want to tell you, the need to know gets greater and greater. That's all. I don't feel any stupid connection to the kid; I don't feel like 'super gay best friends' with him, Hell, I hardly even like the kid. I've known him for three days, tops, and only hung around with him solely today. He's just the most tolerable person there. Probably because he isn't spewing stupid shit from his mouth all the time, talking about him, her, what they did, who said what. He doesn't feel the need to talk to me at all, and I'm far more comfortable with a mutual silence than endless chatter.

And before you think anything, no, I am not thinking all these things to try and convince myself like those stupid fucktarded teens in your soppy ass fictions. No. I am stating it as a fact.

Fuck, I can't wait to get out of this school.

**~::NO POV::~**

The next day Damien sat with Kenny's gang at lunch. The hooded boy greeted him loudly, and Stan asked him why he'd hung out with Frenchie before. Damien shrugged.

"You guys can be assholes, and he's silent. I can get some quiet." Damien looked pointedly at the loudly spasticating Tweek. The blonde yelped and ran from the table in the direction of the canteen's coffee machine, followed by an exasperated Craig trying to calm him down. Damien tutted and went back to his lunch, listening to the chattering of the group.

He deliberately avoided looking over in Pip's direction. If he had, he would have seen the blonde with his head in his hands.

In form, Damien arrived a few minutes late. He looked over to the seat at the back of his English class, the same seat he sat in during English lessons, and where Pip usually sat beside him. Mr Mattson was currently absent from the classroom, and the students had pounced on this.

They'd also pounced on Pip.

"What's up Frenchie? Don't like it on your back?" Cartman jeered at the fallen boy, earning laughter from around the room.

"He's so gay." Fosse chuckled. Bill joined him with a "Yeah, super gay, heh."

Pip just lay on the floor, tears welling in his eyes, eyes flickering fearfully around the surrounding children. Clyde stepped forward and kicked him. Craig knocked off his hat, roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair, and banged his head against the floor. Stan stepped on his hand, and Kenny stomped down on his ankle; the one he'd injured the day before. All throughout this, Damien stared, expression blank as he tried to figure out what he was meant to do, and Pip curled into himself, mouth occasionally opening in a silent, pained scream.

"Hey, move it." Damien growled as he stepped forward toward the crowd.

"Damien! Glad you could make it, we've got him cornered. Maybe you could set him on fire or something." Kenny crowed, clapping Damien on the back and pushing him so he stood over Pip. The teens cheered at the thought of Pip rolling around on fire. Damien stared down at Pip, and Pip stared back up, shaking violently, eyes frightened.

"Nah. Come on, Mr. Mattson will be back soon, I don't wanna be kicked out already, my Dad'll kill me." Damien shrugged, nudging Pip with his foot. Some of the kids groaned, but as if on cue Tweek withdrew his head into the classroom and screeched 'HAMMERTIME!'.

Everyone except Damien seemed to know this meant the teacher was returning so they rushed back to their seats. Damien leisurely took his, then looked down at Pip, who was trying to recover himself on the floor.

"Well come on." he muttered, and offered a hand to help Pip up. The blonde looked at it wearily for a second, then pushed himself gently to his feet, wobbling momentarily before collapsing into his chair. Damien grunted and withdrew the rejected hand. He watched as Pip gently brushed himself off, flexed his trodden hand, wincing at the pain. He noticed a spot of red blossoming at Pip's temple.

"Pip, you're bleeding." He said calmly. Pip jolted slightly, and checked himself over.

"Your head."

Pip's fingers gently brushed over the place his head had been slammed into the floor, and when he withdrew them they were covered in red. Pip went slightly pale, but just held his hand gently on the wound. He didn't seem to be about to do anything, so Damien sighed and raised his hand.

"Sir, Pip's head is bleeding, can he go to the nurse's?" he asked. The students peered around at Pip, craning their necks to try and see how bad the damage was. Damien saw Clyde try and offer a victory high-five to Craig, who just flipped him off. Mr Mattson looked over, and when he saw Pip remove his now blood-soaked hand from his head to check how bad the cut was, immediately ushered them out.

"You go with him Damien, if he's banged his head hard enough to do that he might not be quite stable on his feet." The teacher said. Damien nodded, and pulled on Pip's arm to encourage him up. Pip looked up at him, then gestured to his injured ankle.

_Oh of course, now he won't be able to walk properly and I'm going to have to support him._ Damien thought. He pulled Pip to his feet, ignoring any of the children around him or Pip's silent protests. Stooping down and putting one of Pip's arms over his shoulder, he helped the blonde out of the room. They made slow progress, until, halfway down the hallway, Damien sighed.

"I can't do this the whole way, it's too slow and you're shorter than me so I can't support you all that well." Damien shook Pip's arm off him, and Pip wobbled for a moment before Damien caught him and steadied him. "Right, I'll just carry you."

Pip's eyes widened in surprise, and he tried to back away, but Damien had already scooped him up and set off. Pip's mouth opened in a cry without sound and batted weakly at Damien's chest with his free hand, wriggling and kicking, face blushing a bright red.

"Hold still, else I'll end up dropping you." Damien muttered, and Pip finally stilled, though still shaking and blushing.

**~::PIP::~**

If I possessed the use of my voice I would be yelling and pleading and protesting. Unfortunately, I don't, so all I can do is try and get my point across by trying to get out of his arms myself.

"Hold still, else I'll end up dropping you." Damien says, looking down at me and tightening his grip slightly. I decide that actually, being carried is better than falling from here to the floor or limping the whole way.

I must say I'm uncomfortable, not because of _how_ I'm being held, simply the fact that _I'm being held at all. _This is the closest I've been to a person without violent contact for around... 10 years?

No, that's not long enough. Maybe 13? If I'm lucky.

Actually, now I think about it, I don't think I've _ever_ been close to a person without being hit. This is most strange. A gentle touch; some friendly contact. I'm not used to it. I have no idea how to react.

I shift slightly, turning my head and avoiding his eyes to try and hide my blush. It obviously doesn't work, but I might as well try.

"How's your head?" Damien asks.

Having all this blood rush to my face probably isn't helping the bleeding. I wince to show him it's still sore. Well, of course it's sore; I've had my head bashed against the floor hard enough for it to bleed. Somehow I don't think five minutes is going to help all that much. I'm feeling slightly dizzy, whether from the bump or the sight of my own blood I'm not sure, though I've seen my own blood enough times that it shouldn't affect me anymore.

"You don't look too good." I can't hear much concern in his tone. I glare at him for a moment before closing my eyes to try and stop the throbbing. "Hey, hey, don't do that. If you've got a concussion, you've gotta try and stay awake, right?"

He was right, but right now my head was bursting with pain and I couldn't see straight. My eyes flutter slightly as I force them open, and I feel a whimper instinctively rise in my throat, though whether it actually makes a sound I'm not sure.

"It's okay Pip, we're here." I hear him say. I close my eyes.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

Pip's eyes flutter and he whimpers. The first sound I've ever heard from him in the however-many days I've known him and it is a pitiful, weak sound full of pain. It almost makes me... what? I have no idea what the emotion is called. I guess... well, if he's pitiful, I feel pity?

Holy fuck.

"It's okay Pip, we're here." I assure him, but I'm not completely sure he hears me because his eyes are now closed. I just hope he hasn't passed out.

"Uh, Nurse, Pip's hit his head pretty hard; he's bleeding and I'm not 100% sure he's conscious."

Pip shifts, making a face and moving his hand as a signal he can hear us.

"Kay, he seems to be conscious." I correct. "But still, it looks kinda bad."

"Let's see him then." The nurse says, gesturing for me to put him on a bed that's over one side of the room. I set him down and step back, Nurse Whatever-her-name-is taking my place. She removes his bloody hand from his hand looks closely at the wound.

"Oh dear Pip, I've never seen you with a head injury this bad." She murmurs soothingly.

...Wait, what?

"What d'you mean, this bad?" I ask. Nurse Whoever looks back at me, to Pip and waves a hand to say that she'll answer that once she's sorted Pip out.

I'm getting better at reading body-language and gestures since I've known this kid.

She carefully cleans the blood away from his head, showing a reasonable sized cut just above Pip's eyebrow. She makes a sympathetic 'tsk' sound, and carefully applies a clear plaster, obviously so as to not stick a huge, noticeable one on his forehead. Because as much as those things wish they were skin coloured, they aren't.

"Is your vision blurry? Are you dizzy?" the nurse asks Pip quietly, giving him some wipes to clean off his hand. Pip nods gently, obviously trying not to make his head any worse.

"It sounds like you might have simple concussion. I am going to have to notify your parents." From the tone in her voice she knows this isn't going to go down well with the blonde she's just treated. Sure enough, Pip shakes his hands violently (he obviously can't shake his head violently), eyes pleading. "I have to Pip, they need to keep an eye on you tonight."

Pip starts mouthing at her, still making as many negative gestures as he can.

'_No! No, no you can't, I'll...'_ he pauses here, then stops mouthing.

"You'll what, Pip?" I ask. He flinches and looks at me, and slowly moves his head side to side.

'_I can't tell you_'

"Why not?"

Pip shrinks into himself, still shaking all over, physically trembling as well as his gestures.

"Okay Pip, calm down." The nurse comforts him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She looks back over at me and gestures for me to follow her into the adjoining office.

"Did you see what happened to him?" she asks.

Should I rat them out?

Yeah. I mean, look what they've done to the kid. I'm all for torturing people, sadistic tendencies and all, and usually harming the innocent is more fun than harming the guilty, in my mind. For some reason, I feel Pip is different. Something makes me want to not hurt him, and I can help him out this once. I hate those assholes anyway.

"They all ganged up on him; I'm new, I'm no good at names, but the once that did that to his head was the one in the blue hat."

"Craig." The nurse nods. She apparently knows the guy.

"Yeah. And Kenny stamped on his ankle, which is why he couldn't walk properly when we were coming down here."

"Well, thank you..."

"Damien."

"Thank you Damien. I've been trying to get names out of Pip for years. He's regularly coming in here with injuries of all sorts, but he never tells me who did it. Not writing it down on paper, nothing. It's like he doesn't want them to get in trouble."

"They were all in on it. But they were the ones who did the worst damage." I tell her. "So, this is a common thing?"

"Pretty common, yes, though this is his worst head injury so far. He never wants me telling his parents. There's something going on that he's not telling anyone. Poor boy doesn't have many friends, if any at all. I think that if he could find someone he could trust and rely on, he'd start coming out of his shell a bit, maybe regaining the use of his voice." All throughout this she was looking at me with hopeful eyes.

Of course she wants _me_ to be his 'best friend', the person he can 'trust and rely on'. She wants the demon boy (although she admittedly doesn't know that) to _become friends_ with a helpless little human boy. Fucks sakes.

Do I mind trying to take on the job? No. Can I actually DO it?

Probably not.

"I'll try." I tell her, then get up and go through to see Pip. He's sat on the bed; head in his hands, looking worried and upset.

My need to know everything has become even more desperate.

_What is happening with Pip?_

=X=

_A/N: OMG THE FUCKING PRESSURE TO GET THIS DONE _

_14 reviews? HOLY SHIT! I WAS EXPECTING 4 MAX! WTF?_

_*minor freak-out over*_

_Kaaaay. Finally finished, I mean Jesus Christ _

_I would like you warn you all that this story may be slow with updating while I figure out a complete storyline. You guys were awkward and voted for an old story I'd been writing on and off for a while, and I don't have a concrete plot :P_

_So sorry for that._

_**THANK YOU DEAR REVIEWERS OF CHAPTER 1:**_

___, __**HappyNoddleGirl666**__, __**OrangeInTheSun**__, __**Mali Kollama**__, __**Deadly Sharpies**__, __**Artemisgirl91**__, __**Meso the Hanyu**__, __**ENM03**__, __**IAmYourSecondStalker**__, __**Mimi the deer**__, __**TheParanoidNerd**__, __**xRandomosityx**__, __**MyKittyIsEmo**__ and __**donttouchmykyoya818**__!_

_I'm really happy to see some names I've never seen in reviews before, so I'm glad my stories are attracting a reasonable audience! Also thanks for the faves and alerts!_

_Remember, reviews are GREATLY appreciated. I'm gonna be ambitious and aim for 6 this time xD_

_Hope to see you all soon!_


	3. Home Troubles

**Mute: 3**

**Home Troubles**

_A/N: Took me a while to get the title for this decided. I think this'll do._

_I feel like I've kept you waiting a long while, but I'm finally okay with this chapter, even if it's a bit shorter than the previous one. I have a feeling I'm getting some sort of plot, but still not quite sure what's really going to happen._

_Still, you all seem to be liking it, so all's good. Read on, dear readers._

_Warnings: Swearing. One random Twilight reference I'll explain later. Mention of abuse. Etc._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Damien or Pip, or Satan, or any South Park characters in this fic. If I did there would be a lot of DIPPY DIPPY DIP in every episode._

_Every. Episode._

_You've been warned Matt and Trey, never sell South Park to me (or actually, do :P)_

=X=

**~::PIP::~**

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Damien asks as we walk out of the gates.

He can't know.

I make a negative gesture. He frowns at me.

"Pip, you can barely walk, you have concussion and you look like you're about to collapse any minute. I can't really let you go home alone." He insists. I wonder for a moment why he even bothered to ask.

I need a plan. How can I get away from him? I'll pretend I left something somewhere, then make a run for it. I make an act of suddenly remembering something, checking my bag and frowning when I can't find the imaginary item.

"You lost something?"

He's bought it.

I nod.

"Should I go get it for you? What is it?"

Right then, what can I have lost? I retrieve my scrap of paper and pen from my pocket – something I regularly carry around to just keep my hands busy – and write down 'my art book'. He can go look for it, I'll run, and say – or the equivalent of – I had left it at home. I'm sure that'll work.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes. It's in form, yeah?" he makes to walk towards the school. I nod carefully, and he nods once, waves his hand to tell me to wait, and sprints into the school.

As soon as the door closes behind him I run as fast as my ankle will allow me in the opposite direction, towards my home.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

I search around our classroom, but see no art book. I frown as I look around, and my breath hitches slightly as I smell and see a stain of blood where he'd been lying.

Lemme clear this up now you Twi-hard motherfuckers; I am a demon, and just because blood appeals to me on many levels does not make me one of your pussy-ass shitty excuses for vampires. If you don't know, demons are probably what started that whole myth, what with lesser-demon's lack of control. And I will rip your head off and send you to the deepest pit in Hell if you even get the smallest thought of comparing us.

Fuckers.

His cap is on the floor nearby. It must've fallen off his head when he was being beaten. He obviously didn't notice its absence in the palaver that followed. I think I'll give up on the art book; he must have left it somewhere else, though I have a feeling he didn't actually forget it anywhere.

As I walk back outside I realise I must've been right; Pip seems to have done a runner on me.

Fucks sakes, stupid British bastard, I was only trying to be nice.

Urgh. That sounds so disgusting in my mind. Antichrist + nice =... I don't know what.

Whatever, now I'm pissed off that the kid can't just accept that I'm trying to help him. I wish he'd hurry up and fucking talk to me so this whole thing can be over, he can get whatever problems he has sorted out, I can stop worrying – no that's the wrong word... anticipating maybe? – anticipating the answer, then I can get out of here and live in Hell for the rest of my eternity.

It's fucking cold up here. I decide that sulking off in the opposite direction and disappearing in flames will help me feel better.

**~::PIP::~**

I feel lightheaded as I stagger towards my front door. I can feel the wind blowing over my face, pushing my hair in front of my eyes. I brush it behind my ear and go to adjust my cap – it isn't there. It must have fallen off and I didn't notice.

I cautiously open the door and I'm immediately grabbed by the collar of my shirt and jerked inside. The sudden movement hurts my head.

"What the fuck are you so late for? Why did I get a message from your school nurse saying you have concussion? You clumsy boy; tripping over everything and nothing. It's for attention, isn't it, you selfish prick. Well here's attention for you."

A hard hand slaps into the right side of my face, making my head snap suddenly sideways and causing me to lose balance. Mother has a powerful hit. I try and shake my head, but I'm fading out. Instead I just collapse against the wall and shield my face as best I can.

"What's that good-for-nothing shit done now?" Father storms into the hallway, presumably not best please at being disturbed by Mother's screaming.

"Knocked his head and given himself concussion. I tell you, if he slips into a coma and dies, he deserves it. Rotten child." Mother kicks my side lazily, but it still hurts. Father growls. That isn't good at all.

"I'll give him fucking concussion if he doesn't get outta my sight!" he warns me in a yell. I take the hint and wobble to my feet as best as I can, stumbling and swerving more than he does when he's drunk. He hits me from behind, making me topple forwards, but I don't lie around and wait.

I scramble upstairs as fast as I can. I won't be getting tea tonight.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

"So how was school honey?" Dad asks me.

"For the last fucking time my _name_ is _Damien,_ you should know it by now! You gave me it!" I growl at him.

"Oh, I'm just trying to be affectionate."

"Well fucking stop it. I hate it. Get it through that thick skull of yours, or I swear to Lucifer I will up and leave this house."

"That's Uncle Lucifer to you mister."

"Oh, whatever."

I set Dad's dinner on fire just to get a point across. He quickly extinguishes it, and frowns down at the charred remains of whatever he made.

"I'm guessing you had a bad day then Damien?" he asks. I just narrow my eyes and slump further down into my chair. "Oh, what happened?"

"What does it matter?" I snap.

"Because you're getting moody. Now come on, what's up?"

The option of telling him about Pip and everything that's happening in school flitters across my mind. It dies quickly.

"Nothing. I'm going to my room." I mutter, and make an exit.

**~::NEXT DAY::~**

I walk through into South Park High. As if it wasn't bad enough that it's a Friday, so I'm fucking tired of doing this, but I also have crappy English with Mr Good-for-nothing.

I hate Mr. Mattson so much I could just barbeque him where he stands.

I walk in, and Pip is already sat at his desk. For a moment I'm relieved he hasn't died; then I'm angry at him for ditching me, and also that he's in school today. He needs time to rest, away from these idiots.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" I hiss at him. He looks up at me in a dazed surprise, and he has a black eye he didn't have yesterday. I wonder how he got it. In fact, he looks a lot more cut up than he did before. They must have got him after school. That must've been why he ran off.

"Pip, you aren't supposed to be here. Come on, I'm taking you home." I tell him, pulling on his arm to try and hoist him up. He shakes his head delicately, wincing at the pain it obviously causes him. I attempt to encourage him up, but the little bugger _holds onto the table_ with what little strength he has. He really doesn't want to go home. He continues to try and shake his head.

"Okay okay, stop that. You aren't helping yourself." I say, holding his head still. He trembles, and a few tears fall down his cheeks. I brush them away.

"Come on. If you're not going home, you're coming with me."

I finally pull him to his feet, and he wobbles, before I drag him after me, gripping onto his wrist. A few of the bullies shout 'Get him Damien!' but I ignore them. I pull him outside the school building.

"Right, this will be odd, but I'm sure I'll explain afterwards. We're going to my house." I warn him, and then we disappear into a burst of flames.

**~::PIP::~**

One moment I'm outside, in the school's front area, and the next I'm not.

What the bloody hell just happened?

I can't quite wrap my head around it; at the moment I feel like my brain is clouded by dense fog, and everything is slightly out of focus and dulled. Before, teleporting to somewhere I didn't recognise would have amazed and frightened me.

My vision goes black.

What seems like just moment later, I come slowly back to my senses, Damien tapping my face lightly. I blink slowly, and realise I'm looking up at a ceiling, and Damien is leaning over me; his bangs hang down towards me. I become aware of a soft surface under my back, and my legs are rested up on something, and that my orientation is obviously lying down, on my back.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was almost worried for a moment." He muttered. "You okay?"

I manage to nod, though I still feel a bit woozy. My eye stings and Damien was tapping the still slightly tender side of my face. I give him a confused look and move my lips slightly.

'_What happened?'_

"I... well, it's a long story, but you're in my room. And you fainted."

I frown again. I want to know more. Like how we actually got here.

"Well, ah... I'm the... hmm. How do I say this? I'll say it outright. I'm the Antichrist. We're actually currently in Hell. But you don't need to worry, you're safe, and my Dad isn't in."

I blink, and everything goes black again.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

The first time Pip fainted, I caught him and lay him down on my bed. He woke up after about a minute, and wanted to know what happened.

"...I'm the Antichrist."

And then he fainted again. Well, honestly, who wouldn't? He didn't actually, as far as I know, know anything about me being a demon; after all, no-one talked to him. I wonder what he's going to do when he wakes up. Try and run away? Maybe, but I don't think trying to get out of our huge mansion-like house is going to be easy for him.

It takes him two minutes to wake up this time. He blinks, and just stares at me.

"That was a sort of expected reaction. Ah...sorry?"

Fuck, did I just apologise to someone? I need to go and wash my mouth out. And besides, what was I apologising for? Making him faint?

Yes. No. Shut up brain.

He gives a slight movement of his head, which I guess was a careful shake, and holds up a hand.

'_It's alright_'

"Are you okay now?"

Another movement, this time up and down instead of left to right.

'_Yes'_

I watch as Pip runs a hand gently though his hair, which is spread out behind him in a circle. I'm not even going to acknowledge what it immediately reminds me of. Which is when I notice again that he doesn't have his cap on.

"Hey, by the way, I got your cap. It fell off in form." I say, suddenly remembering. I grab the cap from by bedside table and hand it to him. He blinks at it, sits up carefully, then smiles gently, looking at me.

'_Thank you.'_

I'm beginning to like how I can accurately tell what he's trying to say. I'm becoming more and more certain with my translations every hour I spend with him, studying his body-language and small gestures.

...No, I don't stare intently at him all day. I'm naturally observant. Perhaps slightly more with Pip.

Brain, I thought I told you to shut the fuck up?

I need to stop having conversations with myself.

I watch as he carefully puts his cap on, holding it by the peak and back, and setting it on the back of his head and pulling it forward slightly, until the peak rests just above his forehead, tilted slightly upwards. It's the first time I've really seen it set straight, how he wants it to be; usually it's slightly lopsided, or brought right forward, and messily placed. He fiddles with it constantly, trying to fix it. It's a nervous habit of his.

He's doing his other one now; fiddling with the bow-tie he usually has tied at his neck. He's looking around my room, awed, scared, curious, fidgeting and shifting himself.

I hear a quiet growl from his stomach, which he instantly wraps an arm around, as if it'll block the noise.

"You're hungry?" I ask, though it's more a statement. Pip blushes and turns his eyes away from me, and I smirk. "Come on, I'm sure there's something downstairs."

He holds a hand up to shield his blushing face from me and shakes his head.

'_You don't need to trouble yourself_'

"Come on, I can't have you in my house going hungry when there's food downstairs needing to be eaten." I tease, pulling him to his feet. He's still a bit unstable, but manages to follow me all the same, still trying to hide his slowly fading blush. I lead him through the hallways of my house, catching his gazing around, amazed at its size. Eventually we get to the kitchen.

"Um, let's see... there's some bread here... various snack things... cereals... milk in the fridge, cheese and yoghurts and shit like that... loads. Help yourself." I say, looking through a few cupboards and bringing out bags of crisps and other shit my Dad has in there. I don't even know why we need this much food. It's usually just us two in the house.

I say usually.

Pip gazes around, like this is the most food he's ever seen together in one place, that wasn't a supermarket or food store. He looks uncomfortable. I guess he doesn't want to be stared at while he's eating or something.

"I'll be in the front room; feel free to bring whatever you want through." I tell him, and wonder through the kitchen archway.

**~::PIP::~**

I stare at the feast spread before me. I don't like the thought of taking too much. Besides, I've never seen this kind of food before. It all looks... expensive.

I take a few slices of bread, which I decide I'll eat plain; that's how I've always eaten it. I also find a lone green apple, and a modest glass of milk. I walk through with my bounty, heating up slightly. I'm still very embarrassed about this whole situation; I mostly wish he'd just left it. Though a small part of me is glad for the kindness.

I see Damien glance at me from a random TV program he's watching, but I don't catch his expression before he turns away again. I think it may have been incredulity though.

"So, how did you get so cut up between yesterday and this morning?" he asked. I stiffened instantly. He looked at me; I could feel his eyes resting on me, as if they exerted physical pressure.

I only move my head to the side once, but he knows what it means.

"Come on Pip. You've got to tell me sometime. I saw the guys before; do they get you after school too?"

I shake my head again.

It's never them. After school I disappear off their radar. It's never them.

I must've continued shaking my head, because Damien holds onto my face to still it. His face is set straight, and he gently wipes tears I didn't know I was crying off my cheeks.

"C'mon, don't cry Pip." He sighs. "I don't...like it when you cry."

He frowns when he says this, and quickly withdraws his hands, and turns back to watch the programme he put on.

I wipe my face gently, and settle down to eating, trying not to eat fast and betray just how hungry I am.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

For most of the day we don't talk. Well, he never talks, but I stay silent and he doesn't gesture any questions. I watch him eating out of the corner of my eye, and he reminds me of a mouse, slightly. He's delicate and careful, hesitant even though I know he's obviously hungry. He constantly glances around him, eyes darting everywhere nervously, and he shudders occasionally.

He's still scared. I can see. I scoot minutely closer to him, for a reason I don't know, and he also moves towards me, until he's gently pressed against me, still shaking slightly. We stay like this for a long time. Eventually he stops shaking, and when I look over at him, he's sleeping lightly. His eyelids flutter occasionally, never opening, and his lips part slightly. He's got his hands folded neatly in his lap, and his head lolls back against the sofa, and slightly to the side onto my shoulder.

I let him sleep, for some reason not minding our closeness.

=X=

_A/N: Oooh~ Damien you wacked up demon you._

_About that Twilight reference; I have once compared Damien to a vampire (NOT Twilight, but vampires) and decided that he or another demon is what started the whole thing, and he is var disappointed with the sparkly pussies they are now. Not to Twilight bash, it's alright, but I'm in it for Taylor Lautner's hot abs. FITT-NESS._

_Ahem._

_So yeah, sorry about late-ness, current lack of serious plot, and all that stuff._

_THANK YOU, THANK YOU, MERCI, GRAZI, AND ALL THE OTHER THANK YOU THINGS TO:_

_**CrissyPalXD, Herrin Kiki, sugapieissofly,whitemonaka234, Miyu loves Sasuke, Anon, Mimi the deer, OrangeInTheSun, **__(abbreviation needed for username to show, sorry Fizzy)__**, HappyNoddleGirl666, Meso the Hanyu, ENM03, xRandomosityx, Mali Kollama, donttouchmykyoya818**__ and __**MyKittyIsEmo**__!_

_Total of... 16 reviews!_

_*dies*_

_*quickly revives*_

_Noticing a pattern..._

_I'll dare to hope for 7 reviews and see if it holds (I aim low xD)_

_So please review, I love getting them._

_It's one of the things that wakes me up in the morning (other than my shouting mother xD)_


	4. Dreams Of Days Passed

**Mute: Chapter 4**

**Dreams Of Times Passed**

_A/N: SHIT! _

_I accidently uploaded the wrong chapter xD_

_So, that actually happens a little bit ahead... eheh ^^ Clicked the wrong file. I suck so bad XD_

_Well, here's the read chapter four xD *hides in shame corner* Hoep you enjoyed your minor spoiler xD_

_I'm sorry it's short, and I'm sorry it took so long. I hope it's okay._

_Warning: Probably language somewhere, I cba to look through and confirm that._

_Disclaimer: Me no owney. _

_Now, you are free to read on..._

=X=

**~::PIP::~**

It's a strange dream. For one thing, I don't dream often; I don't get that deep into sleep. So dreaming at all is odd. The second thing is that it's like flashback; I'm eight, maybe a bit younger. And I'm talking. So this has got to be before I stopped. Then there's who I'm talking to.

Little, eight year old Damien looks both completely different and completely unchanged from the version I know. I can see his features; his overly pale skin, his dark-as-dark-can-get black hair, his thin, long fingered hands, how he's slightly taller, how he stands like he's on guard or waiting to attack. And his eyes. They're... blood red, a lot of the time. Normally he has eyes somewhere between grey, silver and blue. It's an odd colour honestly, like they used to be much brighter, but darken. But not here. The red of his eyes contrasts against his nearly white skin and glows from underneath his jet coloured bangs.

It's not a malicious look. Or at least, the maliciousness is not directed at me. I know this because he's told me.

"_Oh dear, Damien, you look quite mad. Have I said something_?"

"_No Pip, it's not you. Don't worry_."

"_Righto._"

We're... friends? Is that possible? I wouldn't be talking to him otherwise. I have a feeling of safety. In the back of my head, I know this information; he's the Antichrist, he's a demon, devil-spawn; that he should in theory be a creature of complete evil, yet I feel relaxed and safe. Damien is safe. Despite all that is dangerous about him, he's the best place to be.

Is this meant to tell me that this whole thing isn't as bad as it first seems? That, despite the evil heritage that is a part of his being, he's good, he's trustworthy, that we could be friends?

And now suddenly my dream is a nightmare. Sounds of a carnival or party; children squealing and laughing, music from a carousel. Damien's beside me and I'm scared because we aren't meant to be here. I try to grasp for his hand for comfort, but he moves it away. He doesn't look at me.

"_I want to do something special for your party!"_

I look to Damien in confusion. He turns to me, and fixes a glare on me, eyes glowing, and lips moving as he whispers a chant or ritualistic words. Then he touches one finger to my arm with a tiny flame at its tip.

Fire. Heat, too hot. Burning, burning my skin, my clothes, all around me, I'm on fire, I'm burning...!

I gasp for breath and jolt awake, scrambling desperately to get away from the pain. I can still feel it on my skin, the burning all over my body, but especially in my chest...

"Pip! Pip, calm down! It's alright, it's okay, it was just a dream, Pip, it's okay!" I hear the voice. Damien. It's Damien, and he's still here. I wish I could scream but instead I revert to the foetal position and cover my face.

"It's just me Pip; I won't hurt you I promise."

I refuse to move, but that apparently doesn't deter him. He just scoops me up off the floor and pulls me to his chest.

I want to move away but I'm already crying into his shirt.

**~::DAMIEN::~**

As I watch Pip sleep, I barely notice what I'm doing is more likely called 'staring'. His lips move occasionally, but he still never makes a sound. Occasionally he smiles or his hand twitches slightly, gripping air then relaxing again. I think there's a small voice in the back of my head trying to talk to me...

_Stop staring, stop staring, stop staring, for fucks sake Damien, get your eyes off the blonde!_

Yeah, I'm just gonna ignore that.

And you are going to forget everything I just said, okay? Otherwise I'm gonna fry your fucking brains, and your body, and your house, and your family, and-

_Stop talking to no-one._

That I'll listen to.

Suddenly Pip's whole being changes. He's tense, and frowning, his hand clenched. At first he looks worried, then scared, then his mouth opens and he lets out a silent scream of pain. His eyes shoot open and he gasps for breath but still he writhes and scrambles around, off the sofa and onto the floor, pulling at his clothes like they're hurting him.

"Pip! Pip, calm down! It's alright, it's okay, it was just a dream, Pip, it's okay!" I call at him, getting up and moving over to him. He's shaking and curled up in a ball. He looked even more scared, if that's possible. "It's just me Pip; I won't hurt you I promise."

He stays still and I crouch beside him and pull him up into my eyes. He starts to pull away, then starts sobbing into my chest, holding onto me with a life-grip. I wrap my arms around him, and let him cry.

=x=

He's still shaking. He must have had some fucking nightmare for it to get him this worked up. I'm still holding him, and I've fallen to rubbing my hand against his back. He's calmer, but still afraid, I can tell.

"Pip, what's wrong? What scared you?" I ask him quietly. He shakes his head. "Please, Pip, I need to know, or I can't help."

He sniffles and shakes his head more, burrowing closer to me then pulling away again. Like he wants to get close, but he's afraid to.

It's me. It must have had something to do with me, because he's hesitant and now that he's calming down he's pulling away from me.

"Was it me?" I ask, straight out. He doesn't shake his head this time. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm... sorry about all this strange shit, but I promise you I'm not going to hurt you or anything. Okay?"

I pull him back by the shoulders so that he has to look at me. He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands, then turns the watering blue orbs up to me. I stare straight into his eyes, and he gazes back into mine. I repeat myself.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

He keeps eyes contact with me for a few moments longer, before he buries himself in my shirt again.

**~::PIP::~**

His eyes are their normal colour; dark silver-grey with a blue tint and flecks of a much brighter, sky blue. They aren't angry. They're sincere.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

It's a statement. A simple fact, a promise. He won't hurt me. I don't know what it is that makes me drop as much of my fear of him as possible, but I do.

Damien's been a safe place before, and obviously he was still the Antichrist when we met at the beginning of the week, so it's not like he's changed. He's not going to go out of his way to help me, but he won't hurt me.

It was just a dream. It wasn't real. I'm fine, right here, aren't I? He's not setting me alight or trying to tear me apart. I'm fine.

I wrap my arms around his middle and pull myself close to his comforting warmth again, closing my eyes as I listen to his steady heartbeat.

=x=

We stay on the floor from that point. For some reason, neither of us can be bothered to get up and back onto the soft black sofa again, so we sit on the fluffy red rug in front of it with our backs leaning against the front. Damien's huge TV has now been turned off and we're scrolling through his iPod, which is connected to some huge sound system. I don't know many of the bands, or songs, and most appear to be really heavy rock and screamer-type music, but there are a few weaker ones that I don't mind.

"Hey, it's 12. Want some lunch?" Damien asks. I lift my head from where it had been resting on his shoulder to look at his iPod screen and nod. He pushes himself up off the floor, then offers a hand to help me. I take it, but don't rely on his support too much. I wince and stagger as the movement and effort reminds me that, yes, my head does still hurt from being bashed on the floor. Damien notices, because he looks at me and asks if I want a painkiller. I nod gently and lower myself gingerly onto the sofa again.

Damien returns with two ham sandwiches, an apple, two cans of Coke and... a packet of marshmallows? I look at said marshmallows and give him a look that (hopefully) clearly asks 'what the hell?'.

"What can I say? It's fun roasting them over my hand." He shrugs "And I like them. They're brilliant for watching movies. Wanna come and choose one to watch? We still have three hours until Dad'll come back to check if I'm home."

_His DAD is gonna come home?_

My eyes widen and I stand up from the sofa, shaking my hands and my head. I do NOT want to meet his father. No. No no no no no...

"Hey, hey, calm down. It's okay, I can hide you somewhere. He doesn't stay for long, just pops in and then he has to go back for work, and he doesn't come back until like 10 in the evening. Well, he comes back at 6 for tea, but goes out again. Hell, you could sleep the night if you wanted and he wouldn't notice at all. Last time he came into my room without knocking, he only had half a beard for 3 weeks."

I look at him questioningly.

"My aim was off, so I didn't get the whole thing."

That wasn't quite what I was trying to ask, but I can't help but giggle slightly. He grins down at me.

"What? What's so funny? Hey, my aim is perfect usually!"

I just continue to giggle silently and shake my head. He gives a short laugh and collapses down next to me again. After I've calmed down he grins and ruffles my hair.

"Come on, movie room is this way."

I pout at him and pat my hair back down, then get up and follow him, grabbing my apple on the way.

Pretty much all of his films were horror films; Exorcist, SAW, Final Destination, The Hills Have Eyes, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday 13th, etc, etc. There were some down the other end, but he said that was his father's section and he really didn't want to go down there.

"I once found some horrific movie, scarred me for life. Ugh."

He continued looking through, searching for something that wasn't going to scare me to death. Eventually he pulled out an old season of Doctor Who; David Tennant and Billy Piper. He must have seen the way I instantly took interest, because he held it out to me.

"You like Doctor Who?" he asked. I nodded, and he smiled slightly. "Me too. I used to watch it with my mum and dad."

His voice went quiet and his eyes took on an expression of sadness. I was surprised. I tilted my head at him, trying to ask what was wrong. He just smiled sadly.

"Don't worry about it Pip. I'm fine." He said, then pulled me gently out of the room.

Of course for the whole time we sat together, I couldn't help thinking about it. He'd said 'mum and dad' – and his voice had a totally different tone from when he spoke of his father, Satan. Obviously there was something else happening. Maybe it was the reason he seemed to be so cold about his father, maybe it was important, maybe it wasn't. Whatever it was, I decided everything he wanted to reveal would be revealed in time; I sat back and watched the programme, content for now that I could just relax, for maybe the first time in my life.

=X=

_A/N: Oh my God guys, I am SO SO sorry!_

_It's been really hard for me to write this recently, and I don't know why. My inspiration went completely poof for the past month or so. This is barely an excuse for a chapter, but I decided that a short chapter was at least an update. I was considering putting this on a short hiatus, but I think if I did that I'd lose all motivation completely. But your reviews, and all the people saying they love this story, are pushing me onwards; thank you. Without you, this story would probably stop here and end up discontinued._

_AND SO, I MUST SAY GRAZIE AND ALL THOSE THANK YOU THINGS TO:_

_**HappyNoddleGirl666**__, __**MyKittyIsEmo**__, __**MrsFizzyTuckerTweekMcCormick, xRandomosityx, GoddessSumizofVenus, Mali Kolloma, whitemokona234, Apollo the eagle, dotdotdanii, angelgirl 158, Dani Dreadful, The Cloaked Emo, Alex0821, **__anon __**dipmy life, Lawliet Allan **__and __**DahliaOoO.**_

_BTW: __**The Cloaked Emo: **__Thanks for raising this question, I was thinking it over in my head too. I hope this explains it okay. If anyone is confused, yes it did happen. _

_**Lawliet Allan**__: Yes, I think I screwed up with how long it's been since Damien joined the school. I'm hoping to sort this all out next chapter, so cross your fingers that it isn't too confusing._

_**DahliaOoO: **__This review reminded me 'CRAP! I haven't updated in two months! I suck so much ;A;', and I FINALLY managed to write to the end of this really short, crap chapter _

_So, total of... 16 reviews last chapter. I'll aim for... 9 this time?_

_Remember, reviews will encourage me to update faster, and give me inspiration. If anything confuses you, mention it, I'll try and fix it. Constructive criticism is helpful! Also remember that anonymous reviews is turned ON, so if you don't have an account, you can still leave a review!_

_Okay, ciao guys!_


	5. Important Notice Sorry, not a chapter

**IMPORTANT NOTICE**

Okay, before you all jump to conclusions and start crying, I am NOT putting this story on hiatus, or stopping writing it.

I'm too stubborn for that.

Secondly, I'm SO sorry for getting your hopes up. This isn't a chapter. But it is important.

So, as you all know, I've been rather stuck with this story. Since the start, actually. This is mainly because when I first got the idea I remember it being AWESOME. Like seriously, brilliant. Unfortunately, it was quite an old idea, from before ISAIH, so I ended up forgetting the exact plot. I forgot to take the idea down, and you guys voted for it.

And for some reason, you all love it. I don't. This story is rather shit at the moment. So I've been wondering what to do with it. Obviously, I'm NOT going to stop it, or give up. I refuse to do that. It would make me feel like a bad author, and I'd regret giving up.

For a while, I've been pondering about this. Basically, I think I finally got a direction for it. However, this direction differs slightly from the original, and the atmosphere of the story feels wrong, and I am finding it hard to blend them together. So I'm considering deleting this version, and starting over. It'll still have the basics – Pip is mute, and such – but hopefully the tone will be better, the updates will be faster and easier, my inspiration will be renewed, and the story will overall improve.

I'd like your thoughts on this – the more I think it over, the more I think it's the better option, so I'm leaning towards restarting – but I'd like to know you guys wouldn't think 'oh, well, now I won't bother reading' or something. I hope you'll all be happy, and I REALLY hope you'll all read the new version if I do restart. So PLEASE, all of you, review telling me what you think.

Now, presuming I do restart, I will change the title. So, if I go ahead, look out for 'Is This Silence Voluntary?'. I think it sounds a lot better than just 'Mute'. There will be small changes to the story, the way characters are written, various things like that. Hopefully it won't drag out or go too fast, but I'm hoping to make it a reasonably long and slightly more complex story, because I'd like to do that. Damien especially will probably be portrayed rather differently. All in all, despite being a rewrite of this story, it may come out like a completely different one. And I hope you will all be okay with that, will continue reading it, and will enjoy it more that this!

As a last note, I would like to thank you ALL SO **SO** much for reading this story, and this note, and giving me support despite this being rather shitty. Thank you for your reviews, favourites, follows, for putting up with the long updates and false-updates and mistakes and everything. Thank you ALL. You people, the ones who read and review and support, are the reason I write, the reason my life has improved SO much since I started doing this. I hope I won't disappoint you by restarting.

So, now I will leave you. I will leave this notice up for a few weeks to let people respond, and then I will figure out how to delete stories xD (I have never had to do this before :\) I feel so bad about deleting all of your reviews! I don't want to lose them. SO I might end up just keeping this with 'DISCONTINUED – SEE NEW VERSION' put into the description xD Sentimental old me.

Anyway, so I've gone on for too long, and I am once again SORRY for this not being the update you all want! Please review telling me your thoughts, and if you don't like the idea, tell me so! If the majority would rather I continued to try ploughing on with this, I will try. However, I feel this version is just sort of dead now, and needs reviving. I hope you'll understand if I eventually end up restarting anyway.

Okay. Goodbye for now, friends!

~Jem


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